


How Scorpius Malfoy Passed Potions and Fell in Love

by thisaestus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisaestus/pseuds/thisaestus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malfoys are not potions disasters. Potters are never Ravenclaws. Somehow they make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Scorpius Malfoy Passed Potions and Fell in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2008 AS/S Fest Winter Shorts for the prompts nightshade, earmuffs, and dragons

Scorpius crouched over his cauldron in concentration as he stirred counter-clockwise. His memory sharpening solution would be turning palest pink in three, two--- "Time's up!" Professor Slughorn called, as Scorpius stared in dismay at the contents of his cauldron changing from a dull sort of red to a violent purple. "Please clean up your stations and bring your sample to the front of the classroom as you leave." Scorpius slowly packed his potions kit as various sixth years filed out of the room, dropping off stoppered vials containing a range of pinks and even a lavender. Finally, he couldn't delay any longer and trudged to Professor Slughorn's desk, hands wrapped around the vial, hoping to conceal the extent of his failure until he'd fled the room. He tried to quietly slip his sample in among the others, but his hand chose that moment to jerk and knock into the other vials with a tinkling of glassware.

Professor Slughorn looked up from where he was rummaging through a desk drawer, seeming vaguely surprised to see someone still in the classrom. "Ah, Malfoy. Turning in your work? Here, I'll take that. No sense knocking over everyone else's solutions." He held out a pudgy little hand and Scorpius reluctantly passed over his vial. Professor Slughorn started, and then blanched visibly. "Great Merlin, boy! This is the fourth potion you've botched in as many weeks!" Scorpius stared red faced at his shoes.

"Ordinarily, Mr. Malfoy, I would think seriously about allowing you to remain in my class and continue to the N.E.W.T level. I don't know how you managed to make your O.W.L with results like these! But no matter, no matter. You're very lucky, very lucky indeed! The son of a very talented potions maker is here at Hogwarts. And his father was the son of a potions genius, second only in her class to the most renowned potions master of our time!" Slughorn's round face was alight, and he pulled out a rather too dainty handkerchief to wipe gently at a bead of perspiration on his forehead. "These things run in families, you know. " He shook his head sadly. "Such a pity I wasn't able to have his father in his 7th year. I'd never seen such natural talent! Oh, and it all started with the mother—the things she used to come up with! The brightest red hair and a temper to match!" Slughorn rubbed his hands together in glee, and Scorpius bit back a groan, knowing he was in for it.

************

And that was how he found himself outside the library at 7pm on Wednesday, dreading to go in, but telling himself firmly that Malfoys feared nothing, and were inferior to no one, even if they were being ordered to study remedial potions under someone their own age. Slughorn had promised not to notify his father of his poor marks if he could successfully rebrew each potion he'd failed by Easter hols, and continued to improve his marks. He straightened his spine and lifted his chin, determined to look as though he were in charge of the situation. He walked into the library purposefully, scanning table after table of students and not finding his tutor. He began to grow alarmed - What if he didn't show? He couldn't possibly seek him out and beg for his help. What would he tell Slughorn? Worse, what would Slughorn tell his father? He peered behind a row of dusty shelves, just to make certain, and felt an almost palpable relief when he spied a messy head of dark hair bent over a thick book.

Merlin, didn't Potter ever brush his hair? And what was he wearing? Were those earmuffs? Potter was SO. WEIRD. Everyone had been shocked when he'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, but he'd settled in like the Potters and Weasleys had been bronze and blue forever, always walking around with his nose in a book. He was nothing like his popular older brother, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. It wasn't even cold in the library, for Merlin's sake! Feeling emboldened with a sense of derision, he strode over to Potter and stood beside his chair, waiting to be noticed. When Potter failed to lift his head, moving his lips slightly as his eyes scanned the page, Scorpius poked him in the arm slightly harder than necessary, and Potter jumped, looking wildly around. When he saw Scorpius, his face relaxed into a timid smile and he pulled the things off his ears, blushing slightly.

"Sorry, Scorpius, I didn't hear you." He gestured to the earmuffs. "I got Professor Sprout to give me a set of these. I figured they'd be good for the library if they can block out the mandrakes."

Scorpius felt indignant. He'd never exchanged more than a polite nod with Potter, and here he was addressing him by his given name! He stood stiffly. "Very well, Potter."

Potter laughed. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, Scorpius. You might as well just call me Al."

Scorpius had tentatively smiled back, and like that, it was as though they'd always been friends.

 

************

Another berry shot out from under the blade of the knife and Scorpius cursed as he bent down to hunt for it on the floor.

"Use the side of your knife to crush the nightshade berries. Don't try to slice them."

Scorpius glanced up from the worktable at Al, who was engrossed in his book, an arcane encyclopedia of dragons. Where did he find these things?

"But it says to slice them into tiny slivers--"

"Scorpius, I listen to you when you berate my Quidditch knowledge. Please remember which one of us is the 6th year in NEWT potions." He turned a page without looking up, making a small notation on the sheet of parchment beside him.

Scorpius turned the knife on its side and pressed it onto the berry. Instead of shooting onto the floor as he fully expected it to do, it stayed obediently put and exuded copious amounts of juice. He glared good naturedly at Al, who, of course, never looked up from his dragons.

************

Clutching a roll of parchment, Scorpius ran out to the lake where Al was lying in the sun, having fallen asleep with a book of ancient Byzantine runes covering his face. Scorpius flopped down on the blanket beside Al, laughing and nudging him awake. "Al! Al look!"

"Mmph."

Scorpius pulled the book from his face and smiled down at him. "Al! Look! I got an O on my potions research paper!"

Al smiled myopically at him, and without a thought, Scorpius took in the tousled hair, his pink cheeks, and leaned down and kissed him, warm and sleepy from the sun.

And like that, it was love.


End file.
